Five Times Gibbs Killed ZivaAnd One Time He Didn'
by tutncleo
Summary: Crack!fic ahead. The name says it all. Gibbs/DiNozzo pairing.


**Five Times Gibbs Killed Ziva, and One Time He Didn't**

**One:**

Gibbs was away at a seminar, and the rest of the team had been put on cold cases. Tony was busily engaged in playing Tetris. McGee was IMing his friends, and Ziva was reading. None of them had done anything constructive all day.

"Tony, listen to this," Ziva called across to him. "Scientists have proven that there is a direct correlation between drinking more than four cups of coffee a day, and male impotence," she read to him from the magazine she was holding.

"You know, I have wondered about that. I think it is true. I once had a boyfriend who drank almost as much coffee as Gibbs, and he sometimes had problems with his…..well, you understand………Maybe that's why Gibbs is always in such a bad mood," she suggested, completely missing the look of horror on Tony's face.

When Gibbs charged back in six hours later, irritated over the idiocy of the speaker, he headed straight for the break room to get a cup of coffee. "Damn it," his voice rang out through the entire bullpen.

Gibbs emerged, holding his empty coffee cup. "When did the coffee maker break?" he bellowed. "And why hasn't someone bought a new one? I'm going down to the lobby to get some coffee. If I don't hurry the kiosk will have closed," he muttered the last under his breath. On his way to the elevator, he looked back over his shoulder. "When I get back I want a written summary of everything you've been working on today."

Ten minutes later, Gibbs was back. Setting his cup on his desk, he said, "Okay, let's have 'em."

Tony was the first one up. Carrying his report over to Gibbs, he was almost to Gibbs' desk when he tripped. In an attempt to keep from falling to the ground, he reached out and grabbed the desk, knocking over Gibbs' coffee cup.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, as he shot out of his chair to avoid having coffee spill all over him.

"Sorry, Boss," Tony apologized.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Gibbs said very softly under his breath, as he mopped at the little bits that had managed to find their way onto his pants.

"I'll go get you another one," Tony volunteered.

"It's after five," Gibbs snapped. "They'll be closed. Never mind, we're almost done here for the day. Once you turn in your reports you can leave."

A half an hour later, Tony and Gibbs were in Gibbs' car, on their way to his house. "Gonna swing by Starbucks on our way home," Gibbs told Tony.

"I'll make you coffee at home, Jethro," Tony said in a husky voice, his hand snaking out and cupping Gibbs' balls through his pants. "Let's just go home now. You were gone all day, and I missed you."

Even though he was beginning to feel slight effects from caffeine depravation, Gibbs thought that maybe the coffee could wait.

Two hours later, as they lay naked in bed, still trying to catch their breath from their 'reunion', Gibbs leaned over, kissed Tony soundly on the lips, and said, "Be back in a few."

"Where are you going?" Tony asked, sitting up in alarm.

"Gonna go start a pot of coffee, then I'll be back."

"NO! WAIT!" Tony said, grabbing Gibbs' arm to prevent him from getting off the bed. "Let me. I promised I would. Plus, I spilled your coffee at work."

"You've already paid for that mistake," Gibbs leered at Tony.

"I insist," Tony said, as he scrambled to his feet before Gibbs could say more.

Gibbs was lying in bed, waiting for Tony to return when he heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Jumping to his feet, he ran downstairs. When he got there, Tony was standing at the sink, the handle to the coffee carafe in his hand, and broken glass all over the counter.

"What in the hell happened?" Gibbs barked.

"I don't know exactly. I was getting ready to put water in the pot, and the next thing I knew, there was glass everywhere," Tony said, trying his best to look remorseful.

Unfortunately for Tony, his best wasn't good enough. Gibbs had studied Tony for enough years to know when he was lying.

"The truth, Tony, now!" he hissed in his most dangerous voice.

"Look, Boss. It was for your own good…..okay, and mine, too, I admit. Today while you were gone, Ziva read me this magazine article about how too much coffee leads to impotence, and then she told me she actually knew someone that happened to. So I had to do something," Tony admitted, flinching slightly as he anticipated the eruption that was going to follow that confession.

"Oh all the!" Gibbs stopped mid sentence, turned on his heels and stalked out of the kitchen.

"Where are you going, Boss?" Tony cried, as he hurried after him.

"I'm going to put on some sweats, then I'm going to Starbucks, and then to Wal-Mart for a new coffee pot. While I'm gone I expect that mess in the kitchen to get cleaned up. We'll discuss this further when I get home."

The next morning, Tony and Gibbs were the first ones in. Gibbs went immediately to his desk and turned on his computer to check his emails. "Why don't you sit down?" he called over to Tony, who was standing behind his desk, riffling through some files.

"I'm okay standing," Tony answered.

"I insist you sit," Gibbs smirked.

Tony glared over at him, sighed, and then very, very gingerly eased himself down onto his chair, wincing as his butt made contact with the seat.

"Oh my god," Abby cried, as she came rushing into the bullpen. "Have you heard?"

"Easy Abby," Gibbs said. "Heard what?"

"Ziva's car blew up today when she started it. She's dead!"

"That's horrible!" Tony exclaimed.

Gibbs didn't say a word.

**Two: **

When Tony and Gibbs walked into the lobby at the Yard, having just returned from testifying at a court martial hearing, they both noticed that people were looking at them and whispering. Having no idea what that was about, they ignored it and proceeded up to the bullpen. Sitting on Tony's desk was a paper bag. With a puzzled expression, Tony opened it up and pulled out a magazine. After seeing what it was, Tony turned bright red and quickly opened up a desk drawer, dropped the magazine in, and slammed it shut with his knee.

"What was that?" Gibbs asked, coming round to Tony's desk.

"Nothing," Tony said.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.

"Okay, fine," Tony said. "But don't say that I didn't warn you," he told his boss. Bending down, he opened the drawer and pulled the offending object out, then tossed it at Gibbs.

When Gibbs caught it, he turned it over so he could see the cover. It was called "Unzipped" and there was a picture of a muscle bound man, dressed in black leather and holding his crotch. Raising an eyebrow, he handed the magazine back to Tony. "A little light reading?" he asked.

"Very funny, Boss," Tony huffed, as he dumped the magazine back in his desk drawer.

Everyone on their floor spent the day throwing covert glances Tony's way, although not a word was said, and people reacted strangely to him. The men were cool towards him, and the women just looked at him with sad eyes. Even McGee behaved differently; he was unusually nice. Not once, the entire day, did he say something sarcastic or snide about Tony. As a matter of fact, the only person who treated Tony the same as always, was Ziva. By the time the day was over, Tony was literally twitching.

As Gibbs and Tony were taking the elevator down to the parking garage, Gibbs looked over at Tony. "My place tonight?" he asked.

"Not tonight, Gibbs," Tony told him. "I've got a massive headache. Just wanna go home, take some aspirin and go to bed."

Gibbs was disappointed, but he just grunted in acquiescence.

The next morning, things got worse. Ziva had the day off, which meant the team was likely to be stuck at the Yard all day long. While Gibbs was upstairs in MTAC, Billy, the mail boy, came through the bullpen, passing out the daily mail. Billy, who was overtly gay and just a bit geeky, typically avoided Tony, who had a tendency to tease him; but not that day. That morning, Tony's was the first desk he went to. When he got there, he pulled out Tony's mail and stood by the desk, waiting for Tony to acknowledge him.

"Thanks," Tony said, as he reached for the bundle.

"My pleasure," Billy said, licking his lips slightly. "So, how are you today, Tony?" he asked as he stood there, preening slightly.

"Good," Tony said with a puzzled expression. When Billy didn't move, Tony asked, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"There are so many things," Billy said. "I just never knew you might be interested."

Tony was getting uncomfortable. "Look Billy. I'm busy. If this is all my mail, you should probably go deliver everyone else's," and he turned away from Billy and began to scroll through the document on his computer.

Once Billy was gone, Tony felt someone else hovering by his work station. Looking up, he saw McGee.

"Yeah, Probie?" he asked.

"Look Tony. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye on things, but I like to think we're friends," McGee started.

"Me, too," Tony agreed, wondering where this was going.

"And friends should always feel free to be themselves around friends," McGee continued nervously.

"Yeah…." Tony said with a question in his voice.

"So, you should never be ashamed of who you are," McGee managed to choke out.

"I wasn't aware that I was." Tony said, raising an eyebrow.

"I know that it can be hard to be different. I'm a computer nerd, so I get not being just like everyone else," McGee persevered.

"I would hope so. You've had a lot of years to get used to it, Elf Lord," Tony quipped.

McGee just ignored the jab. "I've got a lot of respect for you, Tony. You know that, right?"

This was becoming like the Twilight Zone, Tony thought. "Sure," he answered uneasily.

"Youneedtoknowthatwon'tchange,justbecauseInowknowyou'regay," McGee said so quickly, that it took Tony a second to decipher what had been said.

"I'm not gay!" Tony exclaimed when he'd puzzled it out.

"Ziva told me you'd say that. Don't be embarrassed. It doesn't matter who you like to sleep with," McGee soothed.

"Ziva told you?!? I'm going to kill her!" Tony tried hard not to screech. Taking a second to get himself under control, he took a couple of deep breaths. "McGee, look, I don't know why she told you that. Probably to get my goat. But I'm not gay."

"You're not?" McGee asked in confusion.

"No, and even if I was, it wouldn't be anyone's business but my own," he snapped. Then it dawned on him. "Is that why everyone's treating me differently? How many people did she tell?!?"

"Not that many, really," McGee assured him. "She just mentioned it to me and Sylvia."

Sylvia was Vance's secretary. She was also the biggest gossip at NCIS.

"That's just peachy!" Tony buried his head in his hands.

When Gibbs got back down to the bullpen, Tony was sitting on the receptionist's desk, whispering things to her while she giggled like a teenager. Tony spent the day flirting – with any and every woman he encountered, no matter their age, appearance, or availability status. Gibbs got more and more irritated as the day went on. When one of the women from the evidence room came upstairs to bring Tony a donut, and then stayed for ten minutes teasing and gushing at him, Gibbs had enough.

"DiNozzo, my office!" he barked, heading for the elevator.

When the doors had shut behind them, Gibbs reached over and flicked the emergency stop button. Crowding Tony against the back of the elevator and trapping him between his arms, Gibbs growled, "Something you want to tell me?"

"About?" Tony stuttered out. He couldn't believe it. Gibbs was clearly furious with him, and even though he was terrified, just being this close to the older man was making him hard.

"The women? If it wears a skirt and can walk, you've been flirting with it today," Gibbs snarled. "What's the matter? I'm not enough for you?" He pressed his body up against Tony's and thrust his hips against him.

Gibbs was jealous! That was so hot, Tony thought. "Oh, you're more than enough," Tony told him, reaching out, grabbing Gibbs' ass, and rocking his groin into Gibbs'.

"Then what the hell is going on?" Gibbs demanded.

"It's Ziva," Tony moaned in frustration, as he tried to pull Gibbs' shirt out from his pants. "She told McGee and Sylvia that I was gay, and of course Sylvia told the entire building."

"And so you're out to prove her wrong? What difference does it make?" Gibbs asked, then bent his head to nibble on Tony's neck. Tony didn't answer immediately. He was too busy enjoying the sensation. "Tony?" Gibbs asked again.

"Mmm," Tony moaned. "Doesn't matter to me, Boss." He lifted his chin so Gibbs had even more access. "But if people start watching me, they might figure out about us. And that could kill your career. Can't let that happen."

"Not gonna happen," Gibbs whispered, and then he ran his tongue around the rim of Tony's ear.

"Oh god, you have to stop," Tony gasped, pushing Gibbs off him.

"My place, tonight," Gibbs grunted.

"Tomorrow," Tony panted. "Give it one more night. I need to make sure no one's spying."

"Don't be paranoid!" Gibbs said in frustration.

"Not paranoid. Careful. I'll make the wait worth your while, promise." Tony said, straightening himself up, and flipping the elevator back on before he lost his willpower.

"This is ridiculous," Gibbs started to object, but had to stop when the elevator settled on their floor and the doors began to open.

That night the suspected leader of an underground Hezbollah sect operating out of D.C. received an anonymous tip that there was an undercover Mossad agent working to uncover information on his operation. The message included an address and a name, Ziva David.

No one ever heard from Ziva again, but Tony spent every night thereafter in Gibbs' bed.

**Three:**

Once again Gibbs was going to have to send Tony and Ziva undercover together. That did not please him! He was particularly unhappy over the circumstances. They were trying to bust a prostitution ring that was focusing primarily on service men, and Tony was going to pose as a Marine, and Ziva a prostitute. The hope was that if the pimp saw Ziva trying to elbow her way into his territory, he would attempt to recruit her, and they could then bust him.

The night before Tony had tried on Gibbs' old uniform and had been thrilled to discover it fit. He'd spent over ten minutes examining himself in the mirror, checking out every angle. Gibbs couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten that hard – looking at Tony in that uniform, and then taking it off him……Tony hadn't been as pleased this morning, though, when he'd been sent to the barbers to get the appropriate haircut, but Gibbs was looking forward to running his hand across Tony's newly shorn hair later. Tony was still grumbling about his sacrifice when Gibbs sent he and Ziva off to get ready.

Tony was back in the bullpen within minutes. When Ziva finally reappeared, Tony let out a long, sustained wolf whistle. Smirking, she sauntered into their area. She was wearing a pair of four inch, red patent leather ankle strap stilettos, an obscenely short black liquid lame tube skirt, and a top – if that's what you called the patch of material that barely covered her nipples – made of gauzy purple sequined fabric. Her eyes had been kohled and stood out from her other features, and her lips were slicked in a shiny red gloss. Walking delicately and carefully, she sidled up to Tony, wrapped an arm around him, and crooned, "Hey there, soldier. Looking for a good time?"

Gibbs wanted to shoot her! It didn't help that Tony laughed and swatted her on the butt.

"Let's go!" Gibbs barked. As she let go of Tony, Gibbs began issuing orders. "Remember, we'll be monitoring you both through the transmitters. We'll pick up audio as well as visual. Ziva, you need to make this believable. Work the entire room. Watch for reactions. DiNozzo, your job is to keep her safe. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Boss. Yes, Gibbs," they answered in tandem.

Gibbs stationed himself in the surveillance van while Tony and Ziva entered the club separately. Ziva went in first, and Tony followed. Ziva waited for about fifteen minutes, then approached Tony. Gibbs watched the screen as she rubbed herself against him, and fumed silently when Tony reached over to fondle her ass. 'Just doing his job,' Gibbs reminded himself. After Tony had gotten her a drink, she settled down on his lap. 'Uncalled for,' Gibbs thought as he watched. He'd told her to work the room, but the only thing she was working was Tony. When they got up to dance, he was really getting hot. He wasn't even sure if you could call what they were doing dancing. It was more like having sex with your clothes on. Ziva tossed her hair, batted her eyes, and clung to Tony. But what pushed Gibbs to the edge, was when she reached down and squeezed Tony's cock! That was way over the line. He got even more pissed when the other agents in the van started making lewd remarks, although one glare from him shut that down pretty fast, although they didn't stop watching with rapt attention. Two hours later, when she excused herself to go to the bathroom, he could barely see straight.

Ziva never got to the bathroom. On her way there, a tall thin man in an Armani suit grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her out of the club. He led her to the front of the building, and then proceeded to ream her out for working his club. Ziva sassed back that it was a free country. He assured her it wasn't. After about a half hour of haggling, Ziva managed to get him to tell her all about his prostitution ring, and agreed to work for him. That was when Gibbs gave the signal. Together, he and the other agents in the van burst out and rushed to the curb where Ziva and the pimp stood. While the man was being arrested, Gibbs bumped into Ziva with his left shoulder. On those high heels, Ziva did not have her usual infallible balance. Gasping out an "oh" Ziva began to wobble. Before anyone could catch her, she toppled over headlong, into the street -- right in front of an oncoming bus.

While it was all very sad, everyone agreed that Ziva would have liked the full military funeral her father arranged for her to receive.

**Four:**

Ziva and Tony always bickered. That was just a given at NCIS. They teased each other about who was the better investigator, argued over who was going to drive, and accused the other of being childish. They spent so much time haranguing the other, that no one really paid much attention to it anymore. So it wasn't surprising that when Ziva started calling Tony "bubble butt," everyone just ignored it. No one even thought much about the fact that Ziva had started to question the wisdom of Tony eating a donut or a meat laden piece of pizza. Only one person really paid any attention to her barbed remarks – Tony.

Tony was vain, but even more importantly, Tony was insecure. While he would never openly admit it, Ziva's increasingly harsh comments about his weight were getting to him. He knew better than to let her know that though. Instead he just laughed, and brushed off her comments with some silly remark. But inside, he worried. Now, when he looked at himself in the mirror, he could see a little excess padding around his middle. Suddenly his jaw line didn't look as chiseled. When Gibbs grabbed his hips at night, he worried that he'd developed flabby love handles. Knowing there was only one solution to the problem, Tony devised a plan.

The first thing he did was increase the number of miles he ran each day. Within a week he had doubled it, moving from three to six. His trips to the gym became more numerous, and he spent more time doing aerobic exercises, and less time training with weights. Coffee and soda were replaced with water, and carbohydrates became taboo. Within a month he had dropped sixteen pounds. Yet that didn't stop Ziva from teasing him.

Redoubling his efforts, he began to skip meals. He had to be sneaky about it though. Gibbs had been okay with the whole diet/exercise thing at first, but as the weight seemed to fall off Tony, he became concerned. When he asked Tony what was behind it, Tony had merely laughed the question off, and said he just wanted to get in better shape now, before he got too old. Gibbs hadn't pushed him, but he wasn't happy. Fortunately, Ziva made it easy for Tony to skip meals. For years she'd had the bad habit of picking at everyone else's food, helping herself to whatever they had. Now, he'd just buy something like Chinese, eat a couple of bites, and leave it on his desk, waiting for her to snatch it. When Gibbs finally decreed that the dieting had to stop, Tony started buying donuts and bringing them in. If he left them sitting out, they would just disappear over the course of the day, but Gibbs believed he was actually eating them.

Then Gibbs got sent out of town for two weeks to help open a new NCIS office in Miami. That left Tony in charge. With no one to go home to at night, he started working eighteen hour days, often forgetting to eat a thing. It helped with the loneliness. Whenever he felt himself start to flag, he'd merely take himself to the gym and work out. The adrenaline that caused would keep him going for a few more hours. By the beginning of the second week, Tony started to get sick. It started with a tiny cough. By Wednesday, he was having trouble catching his breath. On Friday, he collapsed in the gym.

Ducky was horrified when he examined Tony. He knew he'd been losing weight, but he wasn't prepared for how thin the agent had become. He could almost count his ribs just by looking at his chest. The blood work had him even more concerned. Somehow Tony had become anemic. His entire immune system was depressed. It was no wonder what had started out as a tiny cold, had blossomed into bronchitis. Tony was sent home with a bag full of antibiotics, and orders to go directly to bed. Gibbs was called and informed of what had happened.

By eight thirty Friday night, Gibbs was home and Tony was tucked into his bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin.

"Ducky says you are bordering on malnutrition," Gibbs fumed at him, as he sat on the edge of the bed, helping Tony spoon some chicken noodle soup into his mouth.

"Ducky exaggerates," Tony answered weakly.

"Not this time," Gibbs snapped. He was angry with Tony, but even more upset with himself. He couldn't believe he'd let this get so out of control. "I want to know what's really behind this, and I want to know now!"

"It's nothing," Tony started.

"Don't give me that BS. Why the sudden need to lose all this weight?" Gibbs pressed.

"I was getting fat," Tony answered quietly.

"Fat? Did I ever say you were fat?" Gibbs demanded.

"Well, you did call me a bubble butt once," Tony told him, wiggling his eyebrows and hoping to diffuse the situation.

"I was teasing, and you knew it. Now tell me, what made you think you were getting fat?"

"Ziva," Tony sighed. "When you called me bubble butt, she picked up on that. Then it was one little jab after another. 'Are you really going to eat that donut? That suit is looking a little tight. When was the last time you went to the gym? You move fairly well for someone as big as you.' That kind of thing. Over and over. I know it was stupid, Jethro, but she got me convinced that I was too heavy. Then, even after I lost weight, she wouldn't let up."

"But Ducky says you must have been barely eating. How's that possible? I saw you with donuts and pizza," Gibbs asked, truly mystified.

"You can thank Ziva for that, too," Tony snorted. "All you have to do is leave food out, and she uses her ninja skills to steal it. She made it easy."

Gibbs was furious. She'd taken it way too far, had known she had found a sore spot with Tony, and had taken advantage of it. She'd gone beyond sibling sparing, right into cruel and unusual punishment. He didn't say anything about it to Tony though. Instead he spent the weekend making sure Tony took his medicine and ate. He also spent a great deal of time assuring Tony that he thought he was beautiful.

On Monday, when he went back to work and Tony stayed home in bed, he waited to see what Ziva would say.

"Where is Tony?" she asked when eight o'clock rolled round and he still wasn't in.

"Sick," Gibbs answered her tersely.

"Tskk," Ziva said. "He does not take care of himself properly. Look at all the junk he eats – donuts, pizza, greasy burgers. It is no wonder he is ill."

Gibbs bit his tongue.

Tony returned to work on Wednesday. He still had a small cough, but his color was better, and he no longer looked as gaunt. Gibbs' careful monitoring of his food intake had begun to help. At noon, Gibbs insisted that McGee and Tony go out for lunch. He announced that he had a meeting with Vance, and told Ziva that she needed to stay in and catch any calls the team received.

Ziva wasn't pleased, but she did as instructed. While she sat at her desk, thinking about how unfair it was, she noticed a bakery bag on Tony's desk. Looking around, and seeing that no one was paying any attention to her, she got up and snatched the bag off of the desk, and took it back to her own. Opening it up she saw that it contained a cinnamon roll – her favorite! Tony didn't need to be eating that, she told herself. Pulling it out, she took a huge bite. Then she took two more. Suddenly, she didn't feel good. Her head hurt, and she felt slightly lightheaded. Low blood sugar, she told herself as she finished the cinnamon roll. By the time the rest of the team returned, she was sick to her stomach.

"I do not feel well," she told Gibbs.

"Do you need to go see Ducky?" he asked solicitously.

"No, I think it is a stomach virus. I would like to go home, though," she told him.

Gibbs gave her permission.

The next morning, when Ziva didn't come in, Gibbs sent McGee to investigate.

McGee called Gibbs from Ziva's apartment fifteen minutes later. He'd found her dead in the bathroom.

When Ducky and Abby ran tests on the contents of her stomach they found traces of arsenic. No amount of investigation, however, ever unearthed where she'd gotten the poisoned cinnamon roll, or who, of the many candidates who wanted her dead, had actually been successful. Her death was finally listed as unsolved, and the file was stamped "Cold Case".

**Five:**

Gibbs loved his boat. Gibbs loved Tony. Gibbs loved Tony on his boat – often and with great abandon. When he loved Tony it was loud, and sweaty, and they both lost themselves in the process. Gibbs loved him when Tony's chest was pushed up against the skeletal frame. He loved Tony draped lengthwise on his back, along the wooden bottom. He even loved Tony under the boat, when they would both bump their heads as they got too caught up in their rutting to pay attention to what they were doing. That was what Gibbs was doing one night, when someone came creeping down the stairs.

Gibbs had just gotten Tony positioned, and was in the process of using his mouth to show Tony how much he held him in esteem, when he heard the middle step creak. Putting a finger to Tony's lips, he reached over to where his gun belt sat. In the process of doing that, he bumped a can of varnish that was sitting on the floor next to the pile of discarded clothes, badges, and weapons, causing it to rattle.

_Bam…._the sound of a gun being fired rang out, and pieces of wood flew down on top of them from the hole that had been blown in the bottom of his boat! After checking to make sure Tony was alright, Gibbs cocked his gun and held his arm out. It was dark, and he had to count on the fact that the shooter wouldn't be able to see it. _Bam_….more pieces of his precious boat scattered on the ground.

This was ruining his night, Gibbs fumed. Someone was destroying his boat, and had interrupted his lovemaking. That couldn't be allowed to stand. Listening hard, he heard another step creak. Had to be the bottom one he knew. Over the years, he'd memorized the various sounds his steps made. He'd listened to them over and over, waiting as Tony made his way down to him.

_Bang_….Gibbs fired. There was a thud, and then nothing more. Both he and Tony waited for a couple of minutes, just to be sure the shooter wasn't still coming after them, and then they slid out the other side. Through the side slates, they could see a figure stretched out on the floor at the foot of the stairway. Quietly they moved closer. When they got within a few feet of the body, they could see who it was.

There on the ground lay Ziva – a bullet hole in the center of her forehead.

No one ever knew why she had been there. Gibbs sent Tony away before the internal affairs guys arrived, so no one ever knew he'd been there. Gibbs explained away his presence under the boat by saying he'd fallen asleep down there, while working on the bottom. Everyone knew about Gibbs and his boat, so that was never questioned. Ultimately, it was ruled an accidental death. Ziva's gun had been discharged twice, and Gibbs' only once, which coincided with his story. It was a tragedy, but Gibbs was not to blame. Even more tragic, however, was the boat.

Gibbs had loved his boat. Gibbs had loved making love to Tony on his boat, in his boat, under his boat. But Ziva had blown two holes in the bottom of it. Gibbs couldn't bring himself to patch them up. He'd spent months sanding and priming those planks. In the end, he had to destroy the boat. In his eyes, it was marred beyond repair. It took Tony an entire week of very physical comfort, before Gibbs started to feel better. Unable to bring himself to start a new boat, his next woodworking project was a very large and sturdy sleigh bed, complete with a slated bottom.

Gibbs loved his bed. Gibbs loved Tony. Gibbs loved Tony on his bed.

**And One Time He Didn't**

Ziva had used to flirt with Tony. And he had flirted with her. She'd flicked her hair. Looked at him with bedroom eyes. Followed him into the bathroom and leered at him. She'd say one thing after another that was laced with double meaning. She'd stand too close, touch him for no reason, and volunteer to partner with him every time the team had to split up. At first he hadn't thought anything of it. Then he'd been flattered. When she hadn't stopped, even after he hadn't carried it to the next level, he'd been amused. Gibbs had not.

When Ziva had first joined the team, and the flirting had started, Gibbs had watched with a certain amount of resignation. It had made sense to him. Ziva was good looking woman, and Tony was undeniably handsome, and smart, and witty, and competent, and sexy. It was natural, he'd thought, that someone would snatch him up. He'd tried bringing up Rule Number Twelve whenever possible, but he worried he was only delaying the inevitable. But as time went on, he'd begun to realize that Tony wasn't taking what was being offered. Sure, he'd flirted back, but no more so than he had with any other woman.

Then there had been that night in his basement, just he and Tony. It had been a bad day that had capped off a bad week and they'd had too much to drink. And Tony had flirted. Gibbs hadn't flirted back – he'd acted on it. Before he'd even really thought about what he was doing, he had Tony pressed against the wall, and he was kissing him. Instead of pushing him off, Tony had flirted more. So Gibbs had moved on. He'd pulled Tony's shirt off, had run his teeth and his tongue over Tony's nipples, had pinched and nibbled. And still Tony had flirted. Then Tony's pants had landed on the ground, followed by his underwear, and Tony hadn't flirted anymore. He'd been moaning, babbling incoherently, clutching to Gibbs' shoulders, as he'd spread his legs to give the older man easier access. Gibbs had taken it. They'd spent the whole weekend together. Flirting had no longer been needed.

The following Monday, Ziva had flirted, and Tony'd flirted back. Gibbs had kept his silence, but he hadn't like it. That night he'd gone to Tony's apartment, and had re-staked his claim. Tony had dragged into work the next day, sore but smiling. And Ziva had flirted.

This went on for months, but Gibbs hadn't said anything. His relationship with Tony had deepened over that time. They'd begun to spend almost all their free time together. He'd no longer worried about whether Tony would ever take Ziva up on her less than subtle invitations, but for some reason, the jealousy just hadn't gone away. Finally he'd gotten to the point that he'd had enough. He had resented watching Ziva openly flirt with his lover, something he wasn't able do at work. It hadn't mattered to him that he wouldn't have, even if he could – that hadn't been the point.

That night, after he and Tony had made love, as Tony had lain pressed against him, "Why do you let her keep doing that?" had just tumbled out of his mouth.

"What? Why do I let who keep doing what?" Tony had asked in confusion.

"Ziva. Why do you let her keep flirting with you? And why do you flirt back?" He'd started it, might as well finish it, Gibbs had told himself.

Tony had laughed. "What am I supposed to do, shoot her?" he'd asked. "It doesn't mean anything. It's harmless. We've always done it."

"Don't shoot her, it'd be too hard to cover up," Gibbs had said, feeling rather foolish and wanting to turn it into a joke.

"Are you jealous?" Tony had asked incredulously.

" 'Course not," Gibbs had grunted.

Tony had pushed himself far enough away so he could sit up and look at Gibbs. "You are. You are jealous!" he'd exclaimed gleefully.

"Am not," Gibbs had maintained.

"Are too," Tony had answered back.

"Not," Gibbs had muttered.

"Are," Tony had crowed.

"What are we, in kindergarten?" Gibbs had snapped then.

Tony had just laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Gibbs had lunged at him, and kissed his mouth to quiet him. That had resulted in a lengthy display of Tony's affection for him. When they'd settled back down, and Tony was once again snuggled up tight beside him, Gibbs had heard, "You don't have any reason to be jealous. There isn't anyone else I ever want to be with. You need to trust me. I wouldn't be jealous if you flirted with someone." Tony had been wrong.

The next day at work, when Ziva had flirted with Tony, he'd smiled kindly at her, but hadn't reciprocated. When she'd stood too close, he'd taken a small step away. Gibbs had watched all of this and tried hard not to gloat. That afternoon, when Tony had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and Ziva had excused herself and followed him out, Gibbs had a momentary pang of concern. But then he'd remembered Tony, lying next to him and saying, "There isn't anyone else I ever want to be with. You need to trust me." And he'd felt better.

Oddly enough, when they got back from their bathroom run, Ziva had been strangely quiet. Gibbs had kept waiting for the irritating flirtation to pick up again, but it hadn't. Then the next day came, and there'd been no flirting. An entire week had gone by, and still no flirting. Gibbs had begun to forget about it. He'd forgotten the little pain in his gut, the pressure in his head, the tension that had used to creep into his body whenever he saw Ziva approaching Tony, and life had gone on. For months, and then finally, years.

Then, from out of nowhere, Ziva had flirted with Gibbs. And it had been kind of fun. So Gibbs had flirted with Ziva. He'd forgotten how much he'd hated it when Tony and she had flirted. It had made him feel attractive, and it was harmless. Besides, it had amused him. Tony had not been amused. Ziva had kept flirting with Gibbs. She'd stood too close. When they got called out on cases, she'd raced Tony for the passenger seat. She'd sought out Gibbs' advice on things, even though she'd already known the answers. She'd flicked her hair, and had batted her eyes at him. Gibbs had laughed, and Tony had silently seethed.

But Tony had held his tongue. He'd remembered the night he and Gibbs had discussed his flirting with Ziva, how he'd laughed. He'd recalled pointing out to Gibbs that he couldn't shoot her to get her to stop. And he'd clearly remembered saying he wouldn't be jealous if Gibbs flirted with someone. That was what had ultimately prevented Tony from mentioning it. But it hadn't made it any easier.

Ziva just hadn't let up. On and on and on she'd flirted. If anything, as time passed, her flirting had increased. Suddenly Tony had found himself being the one to bring up Rule Number Twelve, but that hadn't seemed to faze her. He'd tried pushing McGee on her, hoping she would transfer her attention to him, to no avail. He hadn't really blamed her for that one – how was McGee going to be able to hold his own when compared to Gibbs. Finally, Tony had reached the end of his rope. Something had to be done to stop it. He'd thought about it for weeks. And slowly, a plan had begun to hatch.

It was late in May, and they had gone out to the Blue Ridge Mountains in search of a man suspected of killing a young sailor. The terrain had been rugged, and they'd known there would be spots that could only be reached by repelling down the mountain side. When they'd finally got to a ravine that they were sure the suspect had descended, they'd gotten out their harnesses and ropes. Ziva had volunteered to go first. No one had been surprised; she'd always wanted to be first. When she had gone down about ten feet, her rope suddenly snapped. Before anyone could do anything, Ziva had been plummeting to the ground below. Her safety had caught her about thirty feet down, and she'd hung there, dangling over the abyss. Then, without warning, her safety rope had given way. It had only taken her a few seconds to hit the ground.

After her body had been collected and the suspect apprehended, Gibbs, Tony, and McGee had returned to the yard. When they'd gotten there, Abby had called Gibbs down to the lab. He'd been gone for quite some time, and Tony had begun to grow nervous. Finally Gibbs had come back.

"Abby discovered that her rope had gotten too wet at some point, and that had weakened the fibers. What a tragic accident," he had told his remaining agents.

That night, Tony and Gibbs had made love. When they were through, Gibbs had leaned over and kissed Tony. "What was that for?" Tony had asked.

"For not shooting her. It would have been too difficult to explain," Gibbs had smiled. Then he'd kissed Tony again.

And they'd lived happily ever after!

~Fini~


End file.
